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Chapter 99 - 99. Dael Kayef, part 5

A new journey had began. The Princess and The Baker married, living in a nearby street, big mansion. Holding eachother's hand, they stepped in.

Some days passed, they were happy. They were always respectful to eachother's secrets and esteem. Whenever Jack was free, he helped his princess in chores.

Emperor Hamish had told to provide them some servants but Humaia rejected the proposal by herself. She didn't want to come between her and him.

One Night,

The moon hung fractured above the city, half-hidden behind drifting smoke from the fireworks below.

Every explosion painted their faces in brief bursts of gold, red, and violet. The sound rolled gently across the rooftops very distant, soft, almost like rain.

Jack and Humaia sat side by side on the tiled roof of their mansion, feet dangling above the quiet street.

He had rolled his sleeves up, arms resting on his knees; she sat cross-legged, still in her evening gown, a shawl draped over her shoulders. Between them sat a little tray. Half a bottle of sweet wine, a bowl of candied almonds, and two glasses already used.

The air smelled faintly of roses from her garden below.

Humaia tilted her head back, her long gray hair brushing against Jack's arm as she whispered, "Do you remember your first day at the palace? You looked as if you were going to break your leg carrying me there."

Jack laughed softly, his voice low and coarse. "I thought that too. Everything that shines in a castle seems dangerous when you're used to sleeping on dirt."

She smiled, eyes glimmering in the moonlight. "You still drink tea like it's a poisonous potion."

"You talk like every word needs to sound like poetry," he teased.

She pretended to pout, resting her chin on her knee. "That's because I used to spend my afternoons reciting verses to flowers. They never complained about metaphors."

Jack looked at her for a long moment, the way the light touched her cheekbones, the way the broken moon reflected in her eyes. "You were lonely, weren't you? Even in all that gold."

Her voice softened. "Yes.… but it was a quiet kind of loneliness. It didn't hurt until I realized someone could actually see me." She glanced sideways at him. "You did."

He exhaled through his nose, half-smiling. "I wasn't looking for a princess that day. Just a bracelet on the floor."

"And you found a life partner instead."

Another firework blossomed above them. It was green and orange, fading into silver dust. The light wrapped around their faces; the silence between them felt heartwarming, warmer.

Humaia leaned closer, shoulder brushing his. "Do you ever miss the life you had before? Those streets?"

Jack shook his head slowly. "No. Freedom isn't worth anything if there's no one to share it with." He turned to face her fully now, his expression steady, unguarded. "I don't want your crown, or your father's favor, or the name that makes people bow when you walk. I just want this."

He gestured vaguely, the roof, the night sky, her. "You and me. Talking nonsense until dawn. You don't have to do anything for me, just don't leave. That's all I want."

Humaia blinked fast, laughter and tears fighting in her throat. She whispered, "Then promise you'll never stop talking."

He grinned. "If you promise to keep interrupting me."

Carrying the sound of another burst of fireworks, she rested her head gently on his shoulder; he tilted his head, letting his temple touch hers. Neither of them spoke again.

A month passed like a whisper through dawn. The flowers in Humaia's garden bloomed brighter than ever, as though they knew of the life stirring quietly within her. Her laughter had change. She was pregnant....

Jack often caught himself just watching her from the doorway, hands stained with soot from work, smiling as she hummed to herself among the roses.

The city, however, no longer slept in peace. Far beyond the glittering streets of Dael Kayef, armies began to move. Rumors spread like: Se Goulb, the empire of iron and smoke, was gathering its fleets. The borders are under the hand of marching soldiers.

Jack had found a place in the Emperor's new company. A massive industrial complex built at the edge of the capital. It was a strange creation, part workshop, part military hub.

He worked with engineers and alchemists, forging weapons from alloys that shimmered faintly with psychic energy, tuning engines that growled like living beasts. The Emperor himself had visited once, nodding approvingly at the growing arsenal.

What most unnerved Jack was not the steel or fire, it was the three creatures chained within the courtyard of the facility.

They were breathing, if such a word could describe them. Three colossal beasts, each with three heads, their fur black as tar and eyes like molten gold.

The Cerberus.... the ancient Keepers of Hell, tamed or at least bound by the Emperor's rage. Chains woven with divine metals coiled around their necks, binding their jaws shut, sealing their power. The air around them shimmered with heat, and every exhale carried a sound that wasn't quite a growl, not quite a word.

It was said that these beasts once guarded the Gates Below, that the Emperor had summoned them long ago in his quest for dominance and domesticated them. Now, they stood in his courtyard like trophies, waiting, and sometimes.… whispering.

Jack never looked them in the eyes. He felt, deep inside, that they remembered their old duty that no chain, no spell, no Emperor could truly erase it.

When he returned home each night, covered in soot, Humaia would greet him with her tired but glowing smile. They would talk about baby names, or laugh over how terrible he looked in his work uniform.

The war had gnawed at the Empire for years now. Smoke rolled constantly across the horizon like a second sky. The once-mighty Emperor Hamish Kha sat upon his marble throne blind, his eyes long since taken by an explosion during the third siege.

Still, even without sight, he seemed to see everything, the slowest quiver in a soldier's voice, the scrape of an unpolished sword. Age had coiled around him like an old serpent. Twelve centuries of triumph and grief pressed into one fragile, immortal shell.

Humaia was no longer the delicate princess everyone remembered. She was radiant even in her 228th year, though now her glow came with the unmistakable roundness of pregnancy. Jack, now 265 and still looking like a man in his early thirties, had long since learned that reasoning with a pregnant demigoddess was about as easy as catching lightning in a bucket.

Every morning, Humaia would waddle into the courtyard wearing a loose silk robe, clutching a broom with a determination that could humble an army. "If I don't clean the garden," she declared once, "the roses will think I have abandoned them."

Jack, sweating from hours at the forge, leaned against the doorway. "You're carrying our child, not hosting a royal garden competition, Humaia. Sit down before you sweep the baby out too."

She pointed the broom at him like a sword. "You think the roses understand war, Jack Tim? They need love and care. Not orders!"

"The roses will survive, Humaia. They've survived you talking to them for two centuries."

She gasped, clutching her chest. "The betrayal! My husband mocks me, and I'm the one risking my life giving birth to his future heir!"

Jack burst out laughing. "Future heir? Love, we don't even know if the child will inherit your invisible angelic wings or my terrible cooking."

"Your cooking is a war crime," she mumbled, waddling toward the kitchen before he gently stopped her.

"Humaia, stop. Please," he said softly, placing a hand over her stomach. "You've done enough. I'll handle the garden, the food, even your midnight cravings for sweetfruit stew and pickled bread."

She blushed faintly, smiling. "It must be hard, working outside all day and coming home from those chaos."

Jack brushed a strand of hair from her face. "It's worth it. Every inch of it but I need you to rest for the baby's sake."

Humaia hesitated, then sighed in surrender, sitting on the bench beneath her favorite lilac tree. The wind lifted her hair gently, carrying the smooth scent of flowers. "Fine," she said, smiling faintly. "But only because the little one agrees."

Jack knelt before her, pressing his ear to her belly. "You hear that, little star? Your mother's already bossing me around. You've got no chance."

She laughed brighter, soft, unguarded. In the distance, thunder rolled, and the faint growl of the chained Cerberus meowed from the Emperor's courtyard. But here, for a moment, there was only warmth.

For all their years and all their scars, in that small garden beneath the sun, life still dared to be beautiful.

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